


Two Coffins for Sleep

by KathyIsWeird



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Melissa Scully deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27179296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyIsWeird/pseuds/KathyIsWeird
Summary: One for you, one for me.One word prompt: epitaph
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20
Collections: X-Files Horror Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	Two Coffins for Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceruleanmilieu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanmilieu/gifts).



> I’m just saying Melissa Scully deserved better and I will always yell about it.

_we’ll get there eventually_

_in the dark of our graves our bodies will decay_

_i wish you’d never change_

Aggressive winds slapped against the windows in her apartment, making the panes shake in the wooden frames. The streetlights, nothing more than fuzzy beacons in the night, wavered as they bent under the suffocating pressure of the autumn storm. Deep ticks echoed in the empty room, indicating no only the late hour, but the amount of time she had been curled up on her couch, legal pad in hand. A now-cold mug of tea sat on the table next to her and occasionally the little paper on the end of the string danced when Queequeg, who sat in her lap, exhaled towards it in the grumbly breaths only dogs could manage. 

She tapped her pen against the yellow pad and exhaled impatiently. Queequeg, ever a nosy creature, looked up at her with a certain disdain that indicated her outward expressions were disrupting his very important sleeping. With an eye-roll generally saved for her late sister, Scully began to write once more. Her apartment groaned and small unidentifiable noises made her hair stand on end. 

_ How quickly we abandon the safety of the ones we love when they pass _

_ Do they abandon us as well? _

_ Are we, as humans, built with a failsafe for the heart _

_ That triggers when it cannot hold one more iota of pain? _

_ Will my heart ever move past the mourning cramp _

_ That this season has brought to me? _

_ he is not my answer, though He leads me to believe _

_ That perhaps my grief is not mine alone to bear _

The wind gave one last burst that simultaneously startled Scully so suddenly that she and her dog bolted away and knocked the lights out, bathing them in a blanket of heavy silence. After a few moments to calm her heart and her pet, Scully - who was used to the faulty wiring of her apartment - made the small trek to her kitchen. Once she lit a few candles and acquired the oil lantern she had from her work trips up North, the apartment was lit minimally. 

Now that she could move freely without the danger of a table to the shin, Scully cleaned up her tea, and the small mess Queequeg had made when startled. She threw the blanket she had been sitting under in the hamper in the corner and decided that it was time to change into pajamas. Given that the temperature was cooling as it approached midnight, she decided that the flannel long underwear her sister had given her last Christmas would be appropriate. Yes, it was meant for Christmas photos, but it was cold and the flannel feet of the pajamas kept her toes warm. Besides, who was she trying to impress on a blustery October night in D.C.? 

A low whistle danced around the dark apartment as the windows continued to rattle. Headlights illuminated the room suddenly and Scully’s heart leapt as a figure appeared in her window. On instinct, she reached for her weapon. When a second set of lights drove by, her shoulders sagged when she realized it was the same tree in her window that had been scaring her for years. 

She pulled the curtains together angrily, and marched towards the kitchen to start a new mug of tea. 

Later, tucked under a new blanket and snuggling a freshly-bathed puppy, Scully once again picked up her pen. The moment the tip touched the blue line and dribbled ink onto the sheet, a gentle knock on her door startled her once more. She looked down and cursed at the ink that had bled onto the page in a strange shape. 

“Scully, it’s me,” a soft voice whispered through the wooden door. “I just came to make sure you were okay.”

She smiled against her own will and a blush spread to the tips of her ears. She untangled herself from the pile on the couch and unlocked the door. Mulder, looking very soggy and cold, came bearing a bottle of wine and what looked like fresh bread. 

“Did you walk here?” Scully chuckled. “You’re soaked!”

“I had to park a few blocks away, I think one of the other apartments is having a Halloween party,” he lamented, a drop of rain falling off of his nose onto the carpet below. “But I stopped at the store around the corner and grabbed some of the essentials.”

“Bread and wine?” Scully joked and stepped back to let him in the apartment. “I’ve always questioned your judgment, but I take it all back now.”

Mulder chuckled and removed his soggy shoes and socks. He glanced around the darkened apartment and back to Scully. 

“Is the power still out or do you just like the ambiance?” Mulder asked and waved his hands around. “I’m kind of digging the lantern look.”

“Still out. How did you know?” Scully asked as she walked into the kitchen. “I won’t lie, it’s a bit spooky. I’ve been in a strange mood and the darkness makes it feel like someone’s watching me.”

“I was listening to the radio and heard D.C. was without power. I tried calling your cell, but I think the storms hit one of the towers. Do you need me to secure the perimeter?

“No, thank you though. It’s all in my head. You came all the way out here to check on me?” Scully asked, touched by his thoughtfulness. 

“No, I came to see Queequeg,” Mulder motioned towards the small dog, who growled at the mention of his name.

“Oh hush,” Scully jokingly admonished. “I think I have a change of clothes for you, let me check.”

“Does it match that sexy ensemble you have on?” 

For a few torturous seconds, Scully wondered what he meant until she looked down at her flannel-covered feet and blushed so deeply that her lips tingled. She tried a few valiant times to form words but instead just marched into her bedroom and fell into her bed face first. She screamed into her comforter and grabbed the fabric in her fist.

Eventually, she got up and grabbed the plastic bag with Mulder’s clothes in them. It was almost impossible to place when exactly they had taken residence on her floor, but she was sure he had something similar at his place. Given their line of work, there were never too many sets of spare clothes. 

When she padded into the living room again, Mulder was shuffling uncomfortably on the tile in front of her door. 

“Cold?” Scully handed him the bag. “You can run a hot shower if you want! I’ll let the wine breathe.”

“Scully it was eight dollars, I doubt breathing will make it any better. I might take you up on that shower though, I hate being wet.”

A million things raced through her mind but she once again found herself without words. So, to save face, she simply motioned towards the bathroom and nodded. 

Once he set off towards the bathroom, Scully uncorked the wine with minimal splatter and put the bread into the oven to warm up. She didn’t relax until she heard the shower begin to run. 

The feeling of being watched again, and a faint jingle rang out. It sounded like it had come from her kitchen table but there was nothing on it. Just to be sure, Scully felt around it and came up with nothing. When she turned around to check on the bread, a whiff of lavender blew past her. It was very likely she imagined it, but the smell comforted her. The only person she knew who wore it was Melissa. 

After a little bit, Mulder walked into the kitchen with bare feet and a towel around his head. The sight was adorable, even if she had seen him fight the most treacherous things life had, he would still be adorable to her. 

Wordlessly, Mulder walked around her and grabbed the plate that held the bread. Scully nodded and grabbed for the wine glasses and paused. Perhaps, tonight was a night for wine straight from the bottle. 

Mulder’s eyebrow rose when he sat on the couch and noted the lack of glassware. Scully simply shrugged and handed him the wine. 

“Whatcha got there?” Mulder asked as he took the first gulp. “You write poetry?”

“I was tasked with Melissa’s epitaph, it’s been a rough journey,” Scully admitted. “I found myself doing that instead. It’s ridiculous really, but I’m having trouble finding her voice.” 

“Oh,” Mulder seemed to think about his next words very carefully. “I watched my Mother write Samantha’s back in the day. I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

“I couldn’t imagine writing an epitaph for a child - the pain that would come with it,” Scully’s hands trembled slightly as she took the bottle of wine. 

“I hope you never have to,” Mulder offered. He pointed to the legal pad on the table. “I don’t think that’s half bad. You should write more.”

“I doubt anyone would want to hear me grieve half of my family in disjointed words that mean nothing to them.”

“I would. I understand grieving,” Mulder bit into a slice of fluffy bread, the crust crunching loudly in the quiet room. “I would read anything you wrote.”

“Except field reports?” Scully joked to ease the emotional tension crescendoing in the room.

“I skim them! I don’t need to read them, I already know what happened. I was there,” Mulder joked and grabbed the wine. 

“You’re right. What should I write?” Scully’s voice wavered. It was difficult for her to ask for help.

“Honestly? What do you feel in your heart?”

“Sorrow, anguish. A lot of guilt. A sense of punishment?” 

Tears welled in Scully’s eyes and the tiny hairs in her nose prickled. She chided herself - she had cried far too many times over her sister’s hapless departure. The only thing that gave her comfort was the idea that Melissa would be reunited with the Earth that she loved so dearly. 

“Punishment?” Mulder asked. His hand smoothed over the back of the couch and pulled her in a sideways embrace. 

“I know you don’t partake but I sought out spiritual counsel for my issues and the confession left me feeling more distraught than when I came in.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what it’s there for?” Mulder rubbed his hands over her flannel-clad shoulder. “Don’t you just say a few prayers and cast away the sorrow?”

“That’s an egregious oversimplification, but not wrong,” Scully laughed quietly and inhaled the smell of her soap on his skin. “No, Father McCue indicated that Melissa’s death was my fault.”

“How?” Mulder demanded with a chopped whisper. 

“For every one that curseth his father or his mother shall be surely put to death: he hath cursed his father or his mother; his blood shall be upon him,” Scully recited. 

“I’m not sure what that means,” Mulder admitted. “But no one in their right mind could blame in on you.”

The storm outside still pounded against the windows, filling their silence with a natural soundtrack. They stayed that way for almost an hour, just appreciating each other’s presence. After a bit the clock struck again and made them both jump.

“How did it get to be this late?” Scully sniffled and stood from the couch. “Well, early depending on who you’re asking.”

“Do think the bureau would talk if we both called off today?” Mulder also stood and stretched. 

“Probably. But they’ll talk nonetheless.” 

“Oh, and Scully?” Mulder asked as he crossed the living room and entered the kitchen. He pointed to the calendar on the wall. “Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween! I didn’t even catch the date. Any plans?”

“Scully, the world is scary enough without celebrating it. I’m going to the Lone Gunman’s to watch Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. You’re welcome to come!” Mulder offered holding out a hand. 

“As titillating as that sounds, I think I’m finally ready to work on my project. I know it’s no rush, but I think she was here last night to tell me that it’s okay.”

“I think that’s great. I hope it gives you closure.”

Scully crossed the room and hugged him a bit too tight to be platonic. 

“I do too, Mulder. I do too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Shayna (@greycoupon) for the beta!


End file.
